


The Room

by Ahsim



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Interrogation, Kink, M/M, NSFW, OZ uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 10:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11205825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahsim/pseuds/Ahsim
Summary: "Do you want to be somebody's bitch, boy?"





	The Room

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the our_summer_of_zechs creative project on tumblr.com. Thank you laurathia and claraxbarton for beta reading!
> 
> Title subject to change because I can't title.

“What, no clever retort?”

Trowa let out a noise, sharp and pained, as he hit the table. The edge dug into his stomach, which was all the more painful because Zechs had drilled it down into the floor. Trowa, chest heaving, looked over an embroidered shoulder. Blood dripped from his nose into his mouth.            

The face was normally off limits; this was the single exception.

Zechs grabbed the back of the green OZ jacket and pulled him up. “I asked you a question, boy.” The word came out as a sneer, and it got the spark he wanted. The green eyes behind limp auburn hair narrowed and darkened. Zechs didn’t move quite quick enough to avoid the bloody spit Trowa threw at him. It landed on his cheek. Zechs wiped it off with his thumb, frowning at the red stain on his white glove.

“Descended into vulgarity already,” he asked, shoving Trowa’s head into the table. Trowa hissed, hands twisting in his cuffs and scrambling at the front of Zechs’ jacket. Zechs pushed him across the table, until his chest was flat against it and he could press against Trowa’s ass without worrying about those talented fingers grabbing the wrong places.

“Fine, I can match vulgar for vulgar, gundam bitch.”

“Spun sugar,” Trowa spat, breath puffing against the table. “Flimsy and gross. Lose the silver spoon before thinking you can swear like a soldier.”

“You’re not exactly in the position for smart-mouthing. You’ve had it too easy here, haven’t you? Une’s favor kept you safe. Kept their backs turned. Did you have your face up her skirts?”

Trowa twisted under him. Zechs caught the kick with a sharp hook of his foot around Trowa’s ankle. The leather of their boots squeaked as he pulled Trowa’s stability right out from under him.

“Or did you go ass up for her? You wouldn’t be the first.”

“Jealous, ‘count’? That she got to Treize before you did?” Now _that_ was low.

Trowa let out a yelp, more out of surprise than pain, when Zechs brought his open hand down hard on Trowa’s ass. His shoulders rounded up towards his ears.

“There’s something to be said for the ‘traditional’ ways,” Zechs said mildly. “A few dozen stripes right here might have you rethinking that attitude.” He turned towards the door when a noise, more of a kick than a knock, cut through Trowa’s panting. “But that might have to wait. Enter.”

Wufei didn’t enter; he lurched in, like he had been thrown. Nearly falling head over his heels, he tumbled to the floor. His foot had caught the edge of the door, but not enough to close it all the way.

Zechs snorted. “Raised in barns,” he muttered. He shoved Trowa into the table with a hard push between his shoulder blades before stepping back. He stepped over the pile of panting limbs now on the floor and crossed to the door. He closed it before turning.

“So glad you decided to join us, 05,” Zechs said, tucking his hands behind his back. “Wufei, isn’t it? Treize told me quite a bit about you.”

Wufei flinched, a gesture he tried to hide in a rapid shifting of his body. He rolled to his feet and crouched, ready to spring. Zechs ignored it and smiled. He nodded slightly towards the table.

“I trust you remember Trowa Barton. Or did he not bother to introduce himself?”

The two of them, one floor and the other draped across the table, shared a look. Slightly wide eyed. Slightly confused. Completely knowing. Wufei’s brows pinched as he looked over Trowa in quick intense sweeps of his eyes. Trowa’s lips parted. He blinked, once, slow, and the corners of his mouth twitched.

Wufei glared at Zechs from the corner of his eye. “This wasn’t part of the deal.” Zechs snorted. He crossed to him and pulled his head back by the hair. Wufei hissed, cuffed hands scrabbling against his wrist. The OZ coat was too thick for any real purchase.

“I’m sorry, did you actually think you were in a position to bargain?” Zechs smiled over at Trowa. “My apologies, Barton. I didn’t give you the credit you were due. Your infiltration was exceptional, until this one sang.” Trowa’s brows furrowed. He looked between them briefly. “They called me immediately to confirm, since you and I have already met.” 

Trowa’s breathing picked up. Zechs could see the hot puffs fogging the metal surface.

“What? Did you two think you were friends,” he asked. Zechs released the silky black hair. He grabbed the back of Wufei’s blue tank before he could wriggle away. He dragged him towards the table, mindful of Wufei’s thrashing legs and the slightly worn nature of the old clothes. Trowa stiffened and shifted his gaze. Pink dusted the bridge of his bloody nose. “Oh poor dumb boy, and you considering yourself a soldier.”

Wufei grunted as Zechs pulled him hard and he collided with the table leg. He pinned Wufei to the floor by the table with a boot to his chest as he leaned over the tabletop. Hand on either side of Trowa’s shoulders, Zechs leaned over him. His breath ghosted over Trowa’s ear and cheek, and he smiled at the way Trowa shivered.

“You are a tool. Convenient when you’re available, useful when you work, but ultimately disposable. I thought you knew that.”

Trowa jerked. His shoulders rotated before he slammed his head back. Zechs lurched back, narrowly missing Trowa’s head as it tried to find his teeth. Sneering, he caught Trowa by the hair. Trowa let out a choked, pained noise as Zechs pulled his head back.

“I’ll remind you of your place,” Zechs promised.

Trowa opened his eyes some, flinching from the pain and from the way Zechs’ hold kept his hair from covering the half of his face he preferred. The green irises were dark and wet, the pupils blown. The muscles in Trowa’s strong, slender neck worked as he swallowed.

He still didn’t say it.

Zechs left the two of them, smirking when Wufei let out a groan at finally being released from under Zechs’ foot. He threw them a short, dark look over his shoulder as he stopped by the door. No warning, no expectations. Just a slow, cold smile. The kind he knew left a sense of promise, at once pleasant and unpleasant. The door closed behind Zechs with a quiet but definitive click.

He made a point of being prepared for everything. Anything and everything. After some careful consideration, Zechs took a crop and vibrator from the table he had prepped earlier. And a bottle of lube, for good measure. Tucking it into his back pocket, he turned back to the door.

He paused, listening. They whispered, an oddly warm, passionate susurrus of noise. He gave them another few seconds, then opened the door with a hard push and the sharp click of his riding boots heel on the metal floor.

The two of them stiffened. Neither of them had moved from the table, but Wufei’s hands fell to his lap in such a way that Zechs was sure he had been touching Trowa’s thigh. He smirked.

“Now where were we,” he asked, kicking the door closed behind him. Zechs locked the door from the inside before moving towards the table. He tapped the crop against his thigh, smiling at the way Trowa and Wufei followed the rhythmic movement with their eyes. “Mm I suppose I should take care of you first.”

Zechs tossed the crop and vibrator on the table. The noise made Trowa jump, but Zechs ignored it for the moment, grabbing Wufei’s bound wrists instead. He pulled him towards the other side of the table, smiling at the way Wufei cursed and twisted.

"Let go! You said—”

Zechs grabbed his cheeks after hooking his cuffs to the underside of the table and locking them in place. “You believed me? You might actually be dumber than him.”

Wufei twisted his neck, snagging Zechs’ thumb between his teeth. Zechs hissed. He backhanded him, with not even half the force he could manage.

Faces were on the table today, but he didn’t have to be cruel.

“Attitude must be a side effect,” Zechs said, rising slowly. “I shouldn’t be surprised. A handful of brats permitted to play war with some of the most powerful technology between the Earth and colonies? Of course it would go to your heads.”

Zechs took the crop from the table and spun the slender rod between his fingers. He smiled, looking from one to the other, before walking around the table. Wufei rattled his cuffs against the table as Zechs neared Trowa. He cursed when Zechs grabbed the back of Trowa’s jacket to keep him from wriggling away.

“There’s only one good way to deflate that kind of ego.”

Trowa didn’t make it easy, but Zechs didn’t expect him to. He tucked the crop between his teeth as Trowa bucked and twisted, spitting curses as Zechs alternated between pinning his shoulders and undoing his pants. Trowa stiffened when the white dress pants finally came down. He stilled completely when Zechs flipped up the tails of the white dress shirt that had been tucked into his pants.

The noise that crept out of Trowa’s throat when Zechs shoved his knee between Trowa’s legs was both startled and aroused.

“My, my,” Zechs purred, crop in hand and the tip sliding along the side of Trowa’s thigh. “I think you’re enjoying this a bit more than you want to.” He leaned over Trowa, pressing against him and enjoying the way Trowa shuddered, the way his body twitched when his breath hitched.

Over the side of the table, he could see Wufei. He had gotten himself up onto his knees. Wufei’s tongue ran over his lips, already swollen from biting to keep himself quiet. Pupil-blown, warm brown eyes moved slowly along the lines of his and Trowa’s body.

Zechs smirked. “Do you like this, boy,” he asked, watching Wufei as he breathed the words into Trowa’s ear. “Do you want someone to put you in your place? Stripe this pretty ass when you get out of line?” Wufei swallowed and Zechs knew he was holding back a breathy curse. Under him, Trowa panted open-mouthed against the table.

Straightening, he ran a hand slowly down Trowa’s back. Near the center of it, he pressed his weight into Trowa. Zechs gave the crop a few experimental swings. The leather sang, sweet and quiet, as it cut the air.

The note that came from the leather’s swat on Trowa’s skin was sharp, but not nearly as sharp as the breath Trowa sucked through his teeth.

“Do you want to be somebody’s bitch, boy?”

He didn’t give Trowa a chance to answer. Zechs kept the hits moderate but constant, spreading them across his ass and thighs. Trowa’s gasps grew high and breathy, hands twisting and fretting in his cuffs. He pressed into the table, hips rocking forward more and more with each hit.

At the side of the table, Wufei bit back a groan. He shifted, knees pressing tight together. Smirking, Zechs ran a hand along Trowa’s ass, unable to feel the heat through his gloves.

“Someone else likes you being a bitch,” he said mildly. “A shame he can’t see just how red you’re getting. Or how you drip.”

“Fucking bastard,” Wufei muttered, cheeks reddening.

“I’m sorry,” Zechs said. Trowa let out a sharp cry as the crop snapped against the sensitive spot just beneath his ass, near his inner thigh. “I didn’t catch that, 05.”

“Stop it, leave him alone.”

“Or what?” Trowa whimpered softly as Zechs trailed the crop along his inner thighs, nudging scrotum and cock. He smiled slowly at Wufei. “Would you rather be bent over the table?”

Wufei’s body jerked, his hips looking for friction. 

“Or maybe you’re jealous,” he murmured. Zechs tapped Trowa’s hard cock. Trowa’s knees buckled enough that Zechs felt the need to press down on his back more to keep him up. “Maybe you want to be on this end, crop in hand and white ass to redden.”

“Do you want to punish him, 05, for betraying you? Or are you just a kinky little brat?”

The noise Trowa made this time was high. Pained, and watery.

Wufei swallowed. Glancing briefly at Zechs, almost all the heat in his eyes gone, he shifted, tilting his head to look at Trowa’s face. Zechs eased up on Trowa’s back. He slid out from behind him, hands running to Trowa’s sides.

“Trowa,” he murmured.

Trowa’s eyes were closed, brow knitted in pain. When he opened them, Zechs could see the tears on the edges of his lashes. Trowa licked his lips, wet from saliva and his panting, red and swollen from the bloody nose and his teeth. He licked his lips, taking blood with him. He didn’t seem bothered by the taste, or was too far to notice it.

“Okay,” he said, quiet and distant. “Okay, okay, okay.”

“Break,” Zechs decided.

Wufei managed to slip the cuffs, using the neat little internal release he had designed, just as Zechs was getting Trowa to the floor. Trowa protested, quiet but insistent, constant, the tenor of his words getting more and more hysterical. Wufei helped Zechs gently wrestle Trowa into Zechs’ lap. Zechs shifted, pulling the lube bottle out and setting it aside before he leaned back into the metal wall, legs out straight as he held Trowa against his chest. Zechs pulled his gloves off with his teeth and tossed them aside as he watched Wufei straddle his knees and thighs. Wufei stroked Trowa’s hair.

“You’re not okay,” Wufei said softly between strokes. “That’s fine. Deep breaths, love.”

Trowa held out for a moment longer, then caved. He tucked himself beneath Zechs’ chin, heaving instead of breathing. Zechs glanced at Wufei. When Wufei nodded, he bent over Trowa. Wufei helped him pulled his hair forward to shield Trowa.

Wufei was easier. They had been together for years now, and although he wished more than anything that Wufei’s night terrors would stop, Zechs at least knew how to help. He knew the touches Wufei’s needed, the tone of voice, the endearments or nonsense murmurs that slowed tears and rapid heartbeats. Zechs knew, intimately, intuitively, how to make Wufei feel safe and present and loved.

Trowa was new. Well, not new. Eight months wasn’t new. But Trowa held himself tight and close and had a stubborn streak to rival Wufei’s. If he wanted to be okay, he would be okay. And when he finally couldn’t manage it, it was a personal fault Trowa almost always never wanted to share.

Wufei could get through all of that. He had done it during the war, and he had brought the experience with him into their relationship when he first started dating Trowa. When they started turning the “V” into a triangle, Wufei had shared it with Zechs, but Zechs was still learning. They were patient, though.

Zechs kissed the top of Trowa’s head. “Want me to take these off,” he asked, running a hand down Trowa’s arm to the cuffs. Trowa sniffled but shook his head.

“Not done,” he muttered.

“You seem pretty done,” Zechs said. Trowa shifted his head just enough to give him a watery frown from under his hair. He sniffled and then pushed himself more under Zechs’ chin. On the other side of him, Wufei smiled a little.

“Need to talk,” Wufei asked.

“No.” It was the clearest, firmest Trowa had sounded since the start.

Trowa didn’t have to. Zechs wasn’t stupid, and he hadn’t been stupid during the war, even with all his naïve talk of the glory and honor of soldiers. He knew what they were capable of. What some of them did behind closed doors, when they saw the opportunity. When they had the prisoners, or the lower rankers, to exploit.

Trowa never said, but there were moments that spoke for him. Sudden changes, small and frightened looks at a word or a noise. PTSD that wasn’t just from being a child soldier. Wufei had them too, and it wasn’t until they were three years into their relationship that Wufei finally brought up Treize. And that had been only after some serious therapy.

“Okay,” Wufei sighed. He ran his fingers through Trowa’s hair and down the back of his neck. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Trowa lifted his eyes. “I said I wasn’t done.”

“Trowa—”

“You wanted this, and I want to give it to you.”

Zechs didn’t think a new round in the long-standing argument was going to do any of them any favors, so he intervened.

“Uniform sex, then,” he suggested, rare firmness in his voice. “We can build up to a full interrogation scene, like I suggested before.”

He couldn’t resist the minor dig. He had suggested it, with similar concerns, weeks earlier. Neither of his lovers enjoyed the “I told you so,” though so their responses didn’t disappoint. They glanced at each other before giving Zechs matching looks of exasperation and mild, momentary chastisement.

“I keep the cuffs,” Trowa said.

“You keep the cuffs. Wufei?”

“I am not slipping back into those.” Zechs smiled a bit. Wufei liked restraints, if they were rope or leather. Metal, not so much.

Trowa nodded. Shifting around, he wrapped his fingers around Zechs’ OZ coat for balance as he leaned up to kiss Wufei.

Zechs would never tire of watching them kiss. The way their lips fit. The small noise Wufei made when Trowa took lower lip between his teeth and nipped. The bend of Trowa’s neck when he tipped his head to let Wufei’s tongue access more and more of his mouth. Wufei’s fingers slid up Trowa’s neck and into his hair. Zechs cursed at the way Trowa groaned when Wufei tugged Trowa’s head further back to kiss a slow line down his chin and throat. He leaned forward, burying his nose into the hairs at the back of Trowa’s neck as he wrapped his arms around his waist.

"The two of you will be the death of me,” he said. Trowa turned his head, just enough for Zechs to catch his eye. The green crinkled at the edge, sparkling with a smirk.

“We could stop,” Trowa purred. He gasped as Zechs bit sharply at the nape of his neck.

“The hell you are.”

Zechs growled softly when Wufei slid backwards off his legs, fingers hooked under the collar of Trowa’s dress shirt so he could pull him along. Wufei smirked over Trowa’s shoulder, licking his lips as he guided Trowa across the floor with him. Wufei laid back across the floor, spreading his legs so Trowa could kneel between them.  

“Brat,” Zechs told Wufei as he followed, scooping up the lube. Wufei blew him a kiss. “That impatient for his mouth on your cock?”    

“Only a little more than him,” Wufei said, nodding towards his crotch. With his hands still cuffed behind his back, Trowa resorted to his mouth. Considering how beautifully Trowa could undo button and zipper fly with just his lips, teeth and tongue, he made quick work of Wufei’s old martial pants. “Fuck.”

“Eager, isn’t he,” Zechs asked. He knelt behind Trowa and slid his hands around Trowa’s hips. Trowa had softened while in his lap, but with his ass in the air between Wufei’s legs, he had stiffened again. Zechs wrapped his hand around his cock.

Trowa moaned when Zechs stroked him. His breath ghosted across Wufei’s cock, making him shift and groan under him.

“The two of you look so needy,” Zechs said mildly. He flipped open the lube cap with his thumb. “Drive him a little crazy, Trowa, and I’ll drive you crazy.”

"Damn it, Zechs,” Wufei groaned. He twisted as Trowa pressed his lips to the side of his cock.

Trowa took his time, pressing open-mouthed kisses up and down the sides of Wufei’s cock and inner thighs. Zechs matched his pace, teasing his anus with finger and thumb. Trowa shifted his shoulders and tucked his face between Wufei’s thighs. He lapped gently at his scrotum before taking his balls into his mouth. Wufei’s fingers tangled in Trowa’s hair. He gasped.

Trowa let him slip from his mouth to groan when Zechs eased a well-covered pair of fingers into him.

Telling Trowa to drive Wufei crazy was cruel, but also bliss to watch. Zechs managed to free himself from his dress pants as he scissored Trowa carefully and watched him worship Wufei’s cock. There was no better way to describe the slow kisses and the careful, intent way Trowa traced the stiff shaft with his tongue. He found every vein and fold and traced it, slow and firm, with the tip of his tongue before dragging his lips up Wufei’s full length.

Zechs had been on the end of that sweet adoring torture more than once, so he wasn’t surprised when Wufei dissolved into quiet Mandarin babbling. Zechs’ cock twitched in his quickly moving hand.

He slid his fingers out of Trowa. Trowa whined over Wufei’s cock. Snorting, Zechs slapped his ass, which was already starting to welt. Trowa’s hips jerked as he moaned.

“Take him,” he said after working lube over his own cock, “and mind your teeth.”

Trowa glanced at Zechs over his shoulder, lips and chin damp from saliva. Licking his lips, he nodded and turned, poising himself over Wufei. Zechs could just imagine the look Trowa gave Wufei: hot and wanting, through lowered lids and those damn long eyelashes, as he wrapped swollen lips over the head of his cock. Zechs echoed Wufei’s long, low moan as he slid into Trowa in one smooth thrust.

He always marveled at just how fantastic Wufei and Trowa felt.

Zechs set a quick pace, thrusting in and out of Trowa just fast enough and hard enough to make it difficult for him to pleasure Wufei on his own. He tried though, panting noisily through his nose as he took Wufei deeper into his mouth. Wufei cursed and panted, fingers working in Trowa’s hair. His hips rocked upward, slowly at first but then quicker, like he was trying to meet Zechs’ pace.

Until Trowa did something, and Wufei’s head fell back, mouth open in a silent, grateful “o.” Then his hips just bucked up into what had to be Trowa’s mouth and relaxed throat.

Zechs met Wufei’s brutal pace, pounding into Trowa’s body. He could hear Trowa groaning around Wufei with every thrust, body rocking between the two of them. Zechs reached forward and wrapped his hand around Trowa. The precum dripping from his cock made Zechs’ strokes slick and fast. Trowa’s groans hitched. He ground back against him.

"So close, fuck, love your mouth,” Wufei groaned.

He wasn’t sure why—perhaps it was that last lingering flicker of jealousy that Zechs still felt on occasion; probably it was the alluring color and wetness of Wufei’s mouth—but Zechs pushed forward. He grabbed Wufei by the front of his blue tank and pulled him up. Wufei gasped, and then his mouth collapsed under Zechs, pressing for his teeth and tongue.

Between them, Trowa tightened. Cocks buried deep in both ass and mouth, he came, moaning around Wufei. Zechs broke the kiss to groan as Trowa’s body tightened. He rocked into Trowa as he peaked and crashed, riding out the orgasm even after he filled Trowa.

Wufei was not far behind. He waited until Trowa had managed to swallow some before releasing his hold on Trowa’a hair and helping him off his cock. Trowa hated getting semen in his hair.

Zechs shifted carefully, sliding out of Trowa while he licked Wufei clean in slow, languid strokes. He smiled, kissing Wufei before helping Trowa to stretch out on his side. Wufei laid down beside him. He petted Trowa’s hair while Zechs dug the key from his pocket.

“You’re getting a bath,” Zechs said once the cuffs were off. He stroked Trowa’s body carefully, already noting the tight and strained muscles in his arms, shoulders and back. “Hot bath and oil.”

“I’m fine,” Trowa muttered.

"You’re getting a bath,” Wufei seconded. “Otherwise I will have no sympathy for you if you’re too stiff for yoga tomorrow morning.”

Trowa glanced at Wufei through his hair, mouth set in a pout that looked all the more petulant with swollen lips. After a moment, he sighed and pressed into Wufei’s chest.

“Fine,” he said. Reaching behind, he took Zechs’ wrist and pulled. Zechs shifted forward until he was pressed up against Trowa’s back. Trowa let out a low, long sigh, body releasing between the two of them.

“You know, I put that bed down here in the basement for a reason,” Zechs said mildly.

“And the kitchenette, and the shower,” Wufei said. Zechs flicked him lightly on the shoulder. The shower had been Wufei’s idea, but Zechs insisted on the kitchenette. Wufei clung in aftercare, and was cranky when peckish.

“Someone’s going to have to carry me then,” Trowa said. There was a thickness to his voice, and Zechs wasn’t sure if it was exhaustion, relief, or something else.

Wufei set a hand on Trowa’s hip. Zechs laced their fingers on the narrow hip bone.

“We’ll always carry you.”

 


End file.
